


What You Have Never Known

by Streetlightlove



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Slightly dark Prim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streetlightlove/pseuds/Streetlightlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prim knows the boy she loves will never be hers - Everlark through the eyes of Primrose Everdeen. Inspired by the masterpiece: The Death of the Virgin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Have Never Known

I find myself getting winded trying to keep pace with Katniss as we walk into town. She is not as tall as Gale Hawthorne, her legs not as long, but for some reason, her stride is just as wide. Maybe she found herself scrambling like me, trailing behind him in the woods; maybe she had to change to survive as a hunter. This thought alone causes me to speed up.

We are heading into town so that Katniss can trade with the Cartwrights. They use the hides from the animals she hunts when making the shoes they sell.

Katniss made it clear that we were to go to the shoemakers and then right back to the Seam. The town makes Katniss nervous, and I wonder if this is something she picked up from Gale. I know she wants to be quick, but that doesn’t stop me from skipping over to the bakery when it comes into sight.

As I peer in the front window, I can see Katniss’s reflection as she approaches. She isn’t mad—she never gets mad at me—but I can see that permanent sadness, a sadness she has had since Papa died. Katniss thinks I come here to look at the cakes, and I do. They always look like frosted fairy tales. Sometimes beautifully dressed figurines will stand on top of the multi-tiered masterpieces, surrounded by purple, pink and blue flowers. Sometimes I picture the miniature couple dancing, and that the girl is me, and that the boy is…

Something catches my eye, and I look up to see ruffled blond hair on top of a cream-colored face with bright blue eyes. Katniss thinks that I come here just to gaze at the cakes, but I also come to look at the boy I have a crush on: the baker’s youngest son, Peeta Mellark.

Peeta is the nicest boy in District 12, and he’s nice to look at too. He is one of the more popular kids at our school, but he isn’t cruel like other town children. He once stopped a group of older children who were picking on me. He pulled one of the boys, who had thrown a rock in my direction and called me ‘Seam Trash,’ off to the side. I couldn’t get a good look as to what happened, but after the boy’s talk with Peeta, neither he nor any of his friends bothered me ever again.

I would never admit to anyone that I had this crush on Peeta Mellark. I can’t imagine what my sister would say, or how Gale would rant if he were to know. So I keep these feelings to myself. Sometimes I have foolish daydreams about marrying Peeta when I grow up. I only say foolish because I know better than most what is really going on here. While I stare at the handsome boy through the glass of the window, he is staring back at her.

Peeta Mellark is in love with my sister. She is too oblivious to notice, and what’s worse I’m too selfish to tell her. 

Something catches my eye at the back of the store. My stomach tightens when I see Mrs. Mellark storming towards the front. I watch Peeta’s eyes tear away from Katniss and land on the pile he has absentmindedly been sweeping up.

“Come on Prim, lets get going before the baker’s wife spots us,” Katniss calls from behind me. I nod my head, glancing once more towards Peeta before turning to walk away. Katniss puts her arm around my shoulder, and we head back to the Seam.

 

_____________________________________________________

The only thing I can hear is the sound of my own screams. Gale has his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I am slung over his shoulder, kicking and screaming and reaching out. It was my name they called, yet it is her walking up to the stage. Katniss, my beautiful sister, our family’s life line, is now a tribute in the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

“Peeta Mellark!” Effie Trinket calls from the stage. I haven’t been able to calm myself down since my sister volunteered, and now this. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel dizzy. I watch Peeta walk up the stairs, he looks white as the frosting he uses on those fancy toasting cakes. Katniss and Peeta shake hands, and for the first time I notice the color has drained from her face as well.

We pass the baker when we finish saying goodbye to Katniss and begin to leave. He nods to my mother and tries to smile warmly at me, but I know where he has just been. He’s just had to say goodbye to his youngest son, a son he may never see again. A son that if he does see him again, means that Katniss will be dead. The thought sends me into another fit of tears.

“Mama? Can we visit Peeta before we… go… please?” I manage to get out between my sobs. She nods, her body still shaking from our visit with my sister.

The peacekeeper by the door nods for us to enter. I manage to stop my tears as we walk in. The first thing I see is the top of Peeta’s head as it rests in his hands. He is hunched over, and his left foot is tapping compulsively. His head shoots up at the sound of the closing door. For a moment, he just stares at us confused, not understanding why we are there. A spattering of blond hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and I can see the remnants of his tears. He sniffles once, rubbing the heel of his hand over his nose and eyes.

“Mrs. Everdeen, Prim? What are you doing here?”

Just hearing his voice does me in. I begin to sob once again. I have been in love with Peeta Mellark for as long as I can remember, and now I am hoping he will die so my sister can live. He is already to his feet when that thought settles like ice in my gut. I suddenly feel Peeta’s arms around me, pulling me into his embrace.

“I won’t hurt her, Prim, I promise. I will keep her safe. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He’s crying again too.

“I know,” I mumble into his chest.

I know.

 

_____________________________________________________

 

I can almost see the word leave her lips before I hear the sound.

“Peeta!” Katniss gasps before clamping a hand over her mouth. I can see it in her eyes that she feels foolish for the outburst. They have just announced the rule change. The chance exists that both Katniss and Peeta could come home if she can get to the lake in time. My mother and I had continued to glance at each other after that boy from Two attacked Peeta for saving Katniss’s life. We saw where the boy cut him; it doesn’t look good.

We have been watching the games over the Hawthornes’ house every night since they began. Hazelle is always holding my mother’s hand.

Gale shifts uncomfortably next to me, his eyes glued to the screen. He sees what I see. He knows that Katniss hides her feeling in a safe, never letting much in or out. He knows that something has shifted, though. When Katniss called out Peeta’s name to the sky, it was apparent that something had changed, that her feelings for Peeta had morphed into something new. But when they show Peeta’s shallow breathing, I wonder if it is too late.

When the camera crew descended upon our shabby little house a few days prior. indicating that my sister had made it to the final eight, I played along. I told them that the way Peeta felt for Katniss was how my sister felt for him. I told them this to play into their Capitol-concocted love story and for the sponsors, so Katniss can come home. Yet as I sit here night after night, watching her care for him, kiss him, risking her life to retrieve medicine for him and I see the way she looks at him, I have to wonder if it wasn’t a lie after all.

 

_____________________________________________________

I watch from my bedroom window as he retrieves his packages from the dark-haired boy at his front door. Peeta has been generously paying kids from the Seam to pick up supplies from town and the Hob and packages from the train station. He very rarely leaves his house since coming back from the games three months ago, and even then, it is mostly just to go over to Haymitch’s. When I do see him, he always looks pale and drawn, and I know he suffers from the same nightmares that Katniss does. Occasionally I catch him looking at our house in Victors’ Village, which stands across the street from his. I smile and wave when he catches me staring back. He always waves in return.

The nights are filled with Katniss’s screams. I go to her room and try to soothe her the best I can, but in the end, I can do nothing more to help then let her ride her nightmares out. The worst nights are always when she begins whimpering his name in her sleep. The sound always drives me from my own bed. I don’t go to her those nights; instead I wrap myself in a blanket and sit on the bench next to my window.

I always look to Peeta’s house as she cries his name from the other room. I refuse to go to her because I am angry with her, angry at the way she is treating him and angry at how much she is depriving herself. I saw how calmly she slept those nights in the cave, how much his arms around her comforted them both.

As I look to the room in his house where the light always appears to be on at this time of night, while the sound of his name is being wretched from the background, I want to run into her room and shake her, to tell her that she is being foolish, that she is destroying them both. I want to tell her how kind, handsome, and brave Peeta is. I want to yell that any girl would give anything to catch the eye of the sad and lonely victor from District Twelve, but instead she keeps it selfishly to herself. I want to tell her that I love Peeta, and it hurts that he will never love me back, that he will never love me the way that he loves her. I want to scream at her to wake up, to realize the beautiful thing she has at the tips of her fingers.

I want to, but I never do, and the screams continue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Court81981 for cleaning up my messes.


End file.
